For the Best
by Lefty
Summary: Gawain learns to let Galahad grow up.


**Title:** For the Best

**Rating**: PG

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Just borrowing. Will try to return in one (emotional) piece...maybe. Heh.

**Summary:** Gawain learns to let Galahad grow up.

**Notes:** Vignette and musing on the Galahad/Gawain relationship. Takes place a good while before the movie. Not sure if I can really see Gawain acting like this, but the idea came to me and wouldn't leave me alone. We all know how that is...

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"_Don't coddle him_, _Gawain_. _It's not wise_."

Gawain, _surprised by the sudden presence_, _turned around to face Tristan who has seemingly appeared beside him without notice_.

"_You'll hurt him_. _And yourself_," _Tristan cut him off before he had a chance to respond_. "_He has to learn to deal with it eventually_."

Gawain paused, _speechless_. _Who? Deal with what_?

"_Don't coddle him_." _A final warning from Tristan_.

And with that, _he was gone_.

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Gawain pondered what the standoffish scout had said to him earlier in the day as he lay on his blankets that night, watching Galahad toss restlessly in his sleep near him. It hadn't taken him long to figure out that it was Galahad Tristan had been referring to.

The younger knight hadn't slept in weeks, Gawain noted. Mostly because of nightmares, or troubling dreams.

When Gawain asked Galahad what troubled him in his sleep, the younger knight seemed somewhat embarrassed and was generally reluctant to tell. But Galahad trusted Gawain most of all, and as usual, had opened up slightly.

"Home," Galahad would say softly, his eyes drifting east and his fiery demeanor calm for once. He would stand there for a moment, as if caught in another dream, yet this one pleasant. Then he would shake himself out of his stupor and leave Gawain where he stood, just as Tristan had done earlier.

That's all he would say. But Gawain knew Galahad - knew that there was more to the younger knight's restlessness then thoughts of home. Home was what provided Galahad with comfort, with ease, with hope. The promise of home kept Galahad going; something else disturbed him at night.

No, these were not dreams of the fields of home, but of the fields of battle.

Galahad did not enjoy killing. As quick-tempered as he was, it was not in him to kill. Each death he caused triggered nightmares. Payment for his deeds, it seemed. An unfair punishment, Gawain thought. Galahad was the one who enjoyed killing the least, yet he suffered the most.

Sometimes, these dreams would get bad, and Galahad would whimper or cry out. Normally, in the past, Gawain would be right there to wake him up and comfort him.

Every night, when the dreams were at their worst, or when the younger knight awoke suddenly, shaken and upset, Gawain would comfort him. As a friend, as a brother.

Somehow, Tristan had noticed, and at first, Gawain wondered _how._ But Tristan was a scout. He noticed a slight imprint in the dirt; a small leaf overturned; a broken twig. Of course he had seen what Gawain was doing.

And Tristan felt the need to warn Gawain against such comforting, like he warned Arthur when they were being tracked or when something was amiss.

"_You'll hurt him_. _And yourself_."

That's how people get attached, get distracted . When they love someone too much. When they face danger daily and love someone. They get hurt.

Love in itself is a risk. The love for a knight is more-so a perilous endeavor as any.

Gawain stiffened suddenly, shaken from his musings when Galahad murmured softly and began tossing more. His curly head rolled back and forth and he let out a piteous cry that wrenched at Gawain's heart.

This would be when Gawain would wake the younger knight up and pull him from the nightmares. Galahad killed enough during the day, he did not need to kill during the night either.

Instinctively, Gawain's hand when to pull back his blanket…

"_Don't coddle him..."._

Tristan's words echoed suddenly in his ear and he froze. It was easy for Tristan to say such things. The idea of letting Galahad deal with his own fear came as easy to Tristan as killing did.

Galahad began mumbling. "No...no, please, no...". His quiet pleas seemed deafening in the still night.

Instead of throwing back his blankets and waking up the youngest knight, Gawain wrapped them tighter around himself and turned over...

...turned away from Galahad.

Galahad let out a dry sob, still trapped in the clutches of his dream.

"_Don't coddle him_...".

He wouldn't. For Galahad's sake. For his own sake. For the sake of the other knights. He wouldn't baby him.

Another cry. This time soft and almost soundless.

A tear.

And this time, they were Gawain's.

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End file.
